Cuddle up
by kouw
Summary: The Carsons on their honymoon
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Honeymoon fic? Another one? Don't mind if I do.

This entry is an answer to **Batwings79** 's prompt/challenge, thank you onmyside/downtondownstairs for our talk yesterday morning. WARNING: unbetaed - if you see anything that needs adjusting, please PM me)

* * *

She leans against him as the train jostles them about. She is wearing her going away outfit and wishes vehemently she could take off her hat. If she could take off her hat and if she were bold enough, she could put her head against her husband's shoulder and maybe doze a bit until they'd reach Scarborough. She looks at him and she can see he is tired from the lines by his eyes and the way he rubs his forehead. She's not much better. She's not slept well.

She doubts any bride ever sleeps well. The night before your whole life changes - though perhaps hers won't change so much. They'll still work together, still have their own spaces. They'll no doubt still squabble and she doesn't think he'll suddenly have changed the way he takes his tea.

His hand lingers on the small of her back when he helps her onto the platform and she steals a glance at him. When he looks back, she blushes and smiles shily. The past few weeks he's been making her feel like a young girl, in love for the first time. Her heart speeds up when he gives her _that_ look.

Her hand is tucked in the crook of his elbow and he carried their suitcase in his free hand. The hotel isn't far from the station. They walk slowly. It's a beautiful day - the sea air tickles her nose. She thinks about her bouquet and how Anna promised to keep it to dry and how Mrs Patmore said she would make sure she'd safe a piece of the wedding cake.

She thinks about how Charles kissed her for all the world to see.

And how she kissed him back.

* * *

The receptionist makes Charles sign the guestbook and he does it with a flourish:

Mr and Mrs Carson, Downton, Yorkshire

She glances up at him again and he gives her the smallest of smiles - his eyes twinkle and she can feel her heart speed up. He takes the key from the young woman and guides her up the stairs and to their room.

Their room.

He opened the door for her and put the suitcase down. She stifled a yawn and found that he too was trying to hide his fatigue.

His night had probably not been very restful either. Then there was the wedding breakfast and the dancing and the congratulations that seemed to come from a never-ending throng of well-wishers. Mr Branson's sudden arrival. Miss Sybbie giving hugs to Master George and Miss Marigold.

She watched Charles dance with Miss Sybbie and she's growing up fast too.

Now it is going on nine o'clock and all she really wants to do is take off her shoes (they're pinching) and her hat and have a proper sit-down for a few moments.

"Won't you come in?" he asks, his voice deep and rumbling as always.

"Of course I will," she says and smiles at him.

She is dazzled by the smile he returns and she steps into his embrace, pushing the door closed behind her with a determined kick of her heel.

* * *

They stand together like that for long, long minutes, just looking at each other and stealing kisses. His lips are soft against hers and she is certain her lip rouge has been kissed away completely by now. Her thumb brushes over her cheek and she presses her fingers against her mouth to hide the yawn she cannot hold back.

"You're tired," he assesses and she nods.

"So are you."

They let go of each other (reluctantly, she feels extraordinarily cold where he's just held her, his body so close to hers) and he helps her with her coat. She pulls the pin from her hair, unbuckles her shoes. Bit by bit she changes from bride back into Elsie.

She puts her shoes under the chair by the window and watches how Charles hangs up their coats and places his shoes under the hatstand. His hat is on the suitcase they've not brought further into the room nor opened. They both know what's in it.

Charles takes off his socks and she smiles - Mrs Patmore and she had cheekily wondered when he would take those off and now she knows. She stands there, watching him, her husband of half a day and she cannot remember a day she's been happier.

"What is it?" he asks and she shakes her head with a smile.

"Nothing."

She walks to the bed and turns it down with quick, efficient movements.

"What are you doing?"

He sounds as nervous as she is.

"I thought I'd get everything ready for tonight. I'll need some things from the suitcase. Would you like me to put your things under your pillow?"

It's a bold move. She doesn't know what he expects of her, nor does she know what to expect from him and the tension in the room has been growing ever since she's taken off her shoes.

* * *

She can't see much in the small mirror in the en-suite but she has a feeling she looks quite… indecent. Mrs Patmore packed for her and just now she fully expected to find her flannel nightgown, only to find a rather modern, thin, cotton one that leaves her rather exposed.

She runs her hands over her sides and hips. It's good to be out of her corset after this long day, but she worries. She worries what Charles will think when he sees her. He told her that he's sure of her, sure that she'll be everything he needs, but she doesn't know - she doesn't know anything about this sort of thing and she is so tired.

She looks at herself in the mirror. She is getting herself in a state. She puts her robe on - also new, also white. She ties the belt in a neat bow and slips from the bathroom.

Mr Carson - Charles - is already in bed. He is reading - Dickens, she thinks. He's got reading glasses now and she is a little surprised by it. She's not seen him wear them before. He looks up, puts his book on the nightstand and takes off his little spectacles, folds them and puts them on top of the book. He clears his throat and raises the blankets for her.

She takes a step towards the bed and slowly undoes the bow, her hands shaking.

She puts the robe over the edge of the bed and slips in between the covers. Charles looks at her, his eyes full of love. She wiggles down the mattress and lays her head down on the plump pillow. She lets go of a deep breath she's been holding for a long time.

Next to her is her husband and she tentatively stretches her leg a bit. Her foot runs down his pyjama-clad calf and he props himself up on his elbow.

"Hello," he says and reaches out for her. His hand cups her cheek.

"Hello." She runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.

He leans in and kisses her softly. Once, twice.

"Why don't you snuggle up a little closer?" he asks and she moves. Slowly. Carefully. He puts his arm around her waist and nuzzles the top of her head.

"You smell nice," he says.

"Thank you." She closes her eyes for a moment and turns to her side. She finds she fits perfectly against him.

He is warm and the cotton of his pyjamas is worn and soft. His hand is on her belly, her back against his chest. His breathing is steady and even and she finds it hard to keep her eyes open.

"Charles?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," she says and he pulls her infinitely closer and kisses her hair.

"I love you, too."

* * *

When she wakes the sun is struggling through the crack between the curtains and she's still in Charles's arms. She is on her back and Charles's hand in on her hip. The nightgown has ridden up to halfway her thigh and the left shoulder strap has fallen down to reveal a rather great expanse of freckled skin. She sighs. When she stretches, she can feel something against her leg and she worries her lip.

~tbc~


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I am overwhelmed by the response to the first part, thank you all so much.  
hope the second part lives up to expectation.

(WARNING: a bit more graphic than you might be used from me - I am sorry if I've squicked you)

* * *

 _previously:_

When she wakes the sun is struggling through the crack between the curtains and she's still in Charles's arms. She is on her back and Charles's hand in on her hip. The nightgown has ridden up to halfway her thigh and the left shoulder strap has fallen down to reveal a rather great expanse of freckled skin. She sighs. When she stretches, she can feel something against her leg and she worries her lip.

* * *

She makes a valiant effort ignoring the feeling of his _thing_ against her leg by slowly turning to face him and kissing his brow. He stirs and there it is again, now closer to her… well. _There_. She clears her throat, unused to the way her heart starts to race and the need to feel closer to her husband.

Her husband.

She remembers how solemn his words had sounded in the village church. _With my body I thee worship_ \- directly followed by: _with my Earthly goods I thee endow_. The things she worried about most. She worried she wouldn't be able to please him and she worried that she might become a burden to him. The second fear had been quenched quite effectively. But the first one still lingers.

She puts her hand on his where it lies on her hip and she kisses his cheek. It's a little rough; his beard is coming in. She kisses his temple; his skin there is impossibly soft. She runs the tip of her finger over his sideburns. The room is still shrouded in shadows, but there's enough light to see how smooth his forehead is while he sleeps. She leans in and nuzzles his nose with her own, pressing herself against him a little more.

His hand slides from her hip to her bum and his voice, thick with sleep, murmurs:

"Is this how you plan to wake me every day, wife?"

She is happy he cannot see her blush, but she still buries her face in the crook of his neck.

He pulls her closer and his thing is now hard and heavy against her and she gasps.

"I am so sorry, Mrs Hugh-Carson… Elsie… I didn't mean to…"

She can tell he is mortified.

"No… It's… It's alright, it's just…"

Intimidating. Slightly frightening. Exhilarating.

She runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.

"Why don't you kiss me," she suggests and he smiles.

His lips are a little chapped, but pliant. His kiss is gentle and sweet. Elsie turns towards him a little more, her breast against his chest. There's only the flimsy white cotton of her gown and his pyjamas between them now.

She kisses him back, a little more forceful, her hand traveling up his arm and landing on his shoulder.

Her bottom lip gets caught between both of his and she opens her mouth slightly, her tongue touching his. Her heart is racing and she lets herself be held tightly. Their kiss is getting frantic, her hand cups his cheek. She is panting and with every breath she takes, she smells him.

Cologne.

Tooth powder.

A touch of sleep.

The hand that was on her hip first and then on her bum is now slowly - achingly slowly - inching up the hem of her nightgown. His fingertips run over the back of her thigh to the crease of her bottom, over her underwear. He slips a finger under the elastic and she lets out a sound.

They break apart and she is as surprised as she is. He gives her a smile.

"Is everything alright?" he asks.

"Yes. Yes, I think so," she answers and finds her voice isn't as clear as usual. Instead it is smokey. Huskey even.

They are quiet. Charles is breathing as hard as she is. His thing is trapped between them and she tilts her hips experimentally.

Charles moans softly, his eyes flutter closed.

She tries it again. Another moan. She shifts so his thing is snug between their legs and tilts again. He pushes back and she gasps as it touches her there.

"Elsie?"

"Yes, Charles?"

"Do you want to…"

She swallows and nods.

"Yes… I think so…"

* * *

He's unbuttoned his pyjama top and shrugged it off. He's not wearing a vest. The light that falls through the crack between the curtains highlights the broad expanse of his chest and the curling, silvery hair.

She daren't look anywhere lower than his navel.

He is on his knees, between her legs and she lies back, tense and worried. He leans in, kisses her again. One elbow is beside her and his belly is touching hers. His kisses trail from her mouth to her cheek, down her jaw.

They land on her shoulder. More kisses. Tiny, little kisses planted along her collar bone, connecting her freckles. He carefully pushes the strap of her nightgown aside to kiss her there.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, trying to chase away the trepidation she feels.

His hand is on her her hips, still clad in her underwear and he claims her mouth again.

* * *

His skin feels wonderful under her hands. The little marks of time and of a lifetime of labour only make him more beautiful to her. If only she could calm herself enough to really enjoy it. He kisses her and touches her. The back of his fingers over her belly tickle her and she stifles her giggle; unsuccessfully.

He smiles at her again.

She's never seen him so happy.

He sits back and pushes up her nightgown and she lifts her bum to help him. His palms are on her sides and push up the gown further, exposing her to him. Inch by inch.

She holds her breath when she feels the cool air on her naked breasts and has to fight the urge to cover herself until she glances at her husband who is looking at her reverently.

"You're so beautiful…" he whispers and she can see tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh, Charles…" is all she can say and she props herself up on one elbow and kisses him, pulling him down on top of her with her free hand.

His bulk on top of her is an experience she never expected. His hips are between her thighs, his chest against her and she kisses him, kisses him - like they've never kissed before. A fire stoked in both of them and her worries about accommodating lessen. She can feel him against her and she lifts her knee, giving him more space, pulling him closer.

"You're still sure?" he asks and she sighs.

"I don't know…"

"It's alright if you don't want to…"

"I know… It's not that… I'm just…"

He kisses the corner of her mouth and says the exact right word for what she's feeling:

"Nervous."

* * *

He does all he can to alleviate her worries. He holds her and kisses her and she finds that her body responds to his touch. She shivers when he places an open-mouthed kiss on the swell of her breast. She threads her fingers through his hair when he sucks on the nipple of the same breast whilst he palms the other. Her legs widen further and he pushes against her.

"Let's try it…" she whispers in his ear.

He doesn't answer, but hooks his thumbs under the waistband of her knickers (they're new: a luxury she's granted herself) and pulls them down.

Then he pushes down his pyjama bottoms and his shorts and she looks away. She's never seen one and she finds she is quite frightened of it - the way it grew against her earlier, the way it went from soft to hard, from small to larger.

Big, really.

How will it ever fit?

* * *

"May I touch you?" he asks.

She frowns. Hasn't he been touching her all along? Then it dawns on her that he wants to touch her _there_. She can feel a flush run over her cheeks.

"Do you want to?" she asks.

"Very much…"

"Alright then…"

Their voices are barely audible. Outside the day is starting. She can hear motorcars and the waves breaking upon the shore. She holds her breath when she feels his fingers run through the curls that cover her.

"Oh…" she whimpers when he opens her up tenderly. She grasps the sheet in her fists when he kisses her low on her belly. His finger slides over her, making her let out another whimper. Her breaths sounds loudly in the room when he keeps touching her, stroking her, and she clenches the sheets tightly. She bites her lip when he lets his finger enter her and bites down harder when he slowly - slowly, carefully - adds another one after a while.

 **~tbc~**

(stay tuned - the rest will be posted this weekend)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you everybody for reviewing, following, favoriting, liking and reblogging - I cannot tell you how much it means to me. A special thank you to the guest reviewer who reminded me to 'up' the rating - it's been done! Also thank you revfrog/ **nanniships** and **batwings79** for much needed information and advice and **onmyside** : thank you for the read-through.

I apologise for not making the deadline I had set for myself - this chapter didn't want to be written. I do hope that it lives up to expectations and thank you all again for your wonderful support.

* * *

 _previously:_

"Oh…" she whimpers when he opens her up tenderly. She grasps the sheet in her fists when he kisses her low on her belly. His finger slides over her, making her let out another whimper. Her breathing sounds loudly in the room when he keeps touching her and she clenches the sheets tightly. She bites her lip when he lets his finger enter her and bites down harder when he slowly - slowly, carefully - adds another one after a while.

* * *

Her breath comes in shallow gasps accompanied by quiet whimpers. Her eyes flutter closed each time she looks at the man who is making her body tingle. He kisses her neck and his fingertips ghost over the inside of her elbow while he steadily keeps up the pace of his other hand. She grasps the sheet in a tightly clenched fist as her blood courses through her veins. Her shoulders dig into the mattress as she trembles with something she's never felt before.

"Charles… Charles! Stop -" she says, her voice deep and he immediately stills and he looks so worried, a tear spills onto her cheek.

"Have I hurt you?" he asks and she shakes her head slowly.

"No, no, not at all. I just… I don't know… it's all a bit much and I want…"

He looks at her expectantly. "Yes?"

She doesn't quite know what it is that she wants and she shrugs a little. She feels so warm, but the cool air makes her shiver nonetheless. Charles is tracing a path from freckle to freckle on her thigh with his pinky.

"I love you," he suddenly says and she lets out a hushed laugh.

"I love you, too," she answers and the words make her indescribably happy, so happy she pulls him up, his bulk hovering over her and she kisses him - hard.

He reciprocates hungrily and she presses herself against him. His knee is between hers until he shifts and lowers himself. She lets her legs fall to the side and there he is, pushing against her… _there_.

"Yes," she whispers in his ear and he props himself up, looks her in the eye.

"Yes?"

She nods, a tiny smile dancing around her lips. A smile that vanishes slowly as he rocks her back and forth, and moves carefully, tiny bit by tiny bit, until they've come together as one - fitting like two pieces of a puzzle.

* * *

"Alright?" he asks.

"I think so…" she answers and she puts her arms around his neck.

She experimentally tilts her hips and watches in utter fascination how her husband squeezes his eyes shut. He lets out a sounds she's never heard anyone make before.

So she tries it again.

And again.

And he moves with her, in counterpoint at times. Together they find a rhythm and she is surprised by how nice it all feels. The broad body of her husband covering her own, the scent of him, the delightful wonder of his skin against hers. The way they move so instinctively. It's joy.

 _With my body I thee worship._

* * *

Figuring out how they fit together almost perfectly is thrilling. The change in sensation when she lowers her knee or when she holds on to his upper arm. The sound of her own gasps drowns out the creaking of the bed. The sheets are all rumpled under them; the blankets have slid to the side. A drop of perspiration falls from Charles's forehead on her breast and she reaches up to wipe his brow.

They don't smile at each other as they stare into each other's eyes, trying to hold on until he spurs her on, moves her so her head falls back and she can't keep her eyes open, a plaintive moan coming from somewhere deep within and Charles doesn't stop moving.

He is speeding up his movements and they're not as fluid as before, not as steady. She closes her eyes again, focuses on how she's feeling (warm, excited, happy) and what she's feeling (skin on skin, slick and hot; motions that make her feel like she's almost flying.) She holds on to her husband, as she starts to curl her toes quite involuntarily.

Then he whispers to her - her name slips so easily from his lips - and he stills, shudders and sighs.

* * *

Gathered up in his arms - her thighs slightly sore and sticky - she feels intensely happy. Her cheek and ear are on his chest and she can hear his heartbeat slow down and steady. Her breath has already evened out and she can feel him drifting off to sleep.

She knows she won't be able to sleep. Not yet. Her body is still tingling with pent up energy and her mind is racing with all the worries that have been laid to rest but haven't yet been filed away.

 _There was nothing absurd about any of it_ , she thinks and she kisses Charles's shoulder. He burrows down under the covers and pulls her infinitely closer.

"I'm sorry you haven't…" he mumbles.

"I haven't… what?" she asks, the drowsiness evident in his voice makes her love him even more in that moment - though she never thought that would be possible.

"Nothing…" He yawns and snakes his arm around her shoulder. "I'll show you tomorrow…"

"Charles, it's going on ten in the morning," she chuckles a bit and then blushes brightly at how her words might be interpreted.

"Then I'll show you this afternoon. Right now… I think… I'd rather…" He yawns again, three times in-between his words.

"Yes… you sleep, my love," she says and pushes herself up and away from him.

"Where are you going?" he asks, suddenly alert.

"Bathroom," she says and grabs one of the sheets that has fallen on the floor and wraps it around herself.

"You're beautiful," he says and she looks at him over her shoulder.

"Thank you."

"And I will show you what I meant later this afternoon," he promises.

Which he did.

And for which Elsie was eternally grateful.


End file.
